


My Turn

by Suchachaoticgood



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, PWP, Smut, alternate season 2 or 3 works, pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchachaoticgood/pseuds/Suchachaoticgood
Summary: Recent obligations have forced them to rush their latest escapades, they’ve sustained themselves with muffled moans and quick releases. With fingers reaching through open buttons and ripped bindings.AKA The one where Clarke and Lexa are interrupted. A lot.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	My Turn

**Author's Note:**

> All of my Gratitude to ButMakeItGay for agreeing to Beta this for me

I.

When Lexa comes, it's exquisite. Her moan is a symphony accompanied by a trembling vibration that soaks into Clarke's bones, pools in the base of her spine, has her clenching her toes in jealousy. 

All It takes is the slightest flex of her forearm to send Lexa reeling all over again. This time the shaking is less desperate, the moan is deeper, it's suspended and airy and honestly, Clarke wants the sound waves converted to art and carved onto her gravestone.

Strong fingers wrap around her wrist, halting her movements, and Clarke smiles, placing soft kisses up the column of Lexa's throat, suckling gently at the curve of her jaw. 

"Good?" 

She keeps her fingers immobile until Lexa's grip on her wrist slackens and the clenching around her fingers becomes less desperate.

"Mm. I knew I would eventually die by your hand." 

Clarke's laugh is boisterous. It makes Lexa smile widely, her hand tracing down Clarke’s slick back, lower, to follow the delicious curve of her ass with intent. Clarke presses their smiles together even as she shakes her head regretfully, "No time." 

Lexa's defeated groan makes her smile spread even as she leans in to kiss her properly. Lingering presses of her lips, deliberate swipes of her tongue, quick flicks that have Lexa straining her neck to chase her mouth, hands palming her ass roughly. 

"Heda." 

Ryder’s voice penetrates the tent, dispersing the air in the bubble they’re enclosed in. 

Their surroundings sink in; the soldiers circling the tent, and the weight of their presence: Responsibility. 

It shouldn’t be so easy for Lexa to allow this distraction but Clarke is glowing. Her skin is beautifully flushed, her hair perfectly mused. 

Clarke clenches her thighs like she feels Lexas focus shift, holding her in place long enough to deepen the kiss. To bite Lexa’s bottom lip and pull, to lick the spot she knows will make her tilt her head and surge. 

She doesn't disappoint. 

Lexa snakes a hand between their bodies, drags it over Clarke’s stomach and flows over the slickness between her thighs, thumb catching her clit in one slow deliberate pass. 

Clarke instinctually rocks forward with a soft moan. But Lexa retreats, "Our duties await, Clarke."

She practically dances out of the bed, eyes alight with mischief and the kind of playfulness that they've just recently discovered. It makes Clarke want to chase her, to pin her down. To _bite_. 

Clarke’s growl makes Lexa's smile slant into an effortless smirk. 

\--

II

The sound of Lexa’s fingers pumping into her is obscene enough to drive her crazy. The loud squish, the wet suction. 

It mingles with their scent, thick enough in the humid air to dance across her taste buds with each desperately sucked in breath. 

All of her senses are being fucked. 

Lexa's entire body blankets hers, her body heat as elevated as Clarke's. Her face is damp and practically feverish as she presses it into the juncture of Clarke's neck and lets out the longest most erotic breath into her skin. 

Clarke moans, feels her cunt fluttering in reaction. 

For a moment disappointment overtakes her. The thought of an empty orgasm, of the harsh clenching of her muscles with no real release has her preparing to tense. 

But Lexa’s is readjusting. Using the weight of her hips to ground her hand as her fingers pick up a heavy rhythm. 

Clarke’s relief lasts as long as her last coherent thought because her attention is pulled to the weight in her abdomen present and persistent. To the _heat_ dripping from beneath her ribs, flowing into her belly, building into something that feels inevitable and dangerous.

Lexa’s fingers curl against her front wall on every other pull. 

The back of Clarke's head clips the hard surface behind her, mouth slack and eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. 

The smallest choked moan slips past her dry throat but it's enough for Lexa to change her angle, fingers swirling inside of her to reach for the spot she knows intimately. 

"Shhhh," Lexa breathes in anticipation. 

Clarke's thighs quake around her, stomach flexing, cunt fluttering. Her nails dig into Lexa's shoulder and hip hard enough to leave marks on the skin beneath her thick jacket. 

She melts. 

Lexa catches it in her palm. She bites Clarke’s bottom lip, licks it slowly, fingers pumping as if Clarke wasn't mid-orgasm and somehow still building. 

Clarke wraps her hand in Lexas hair, pulls their mouths back together so she can share the taste of her destruction. 

Lexa pulls Clarke's leg further up her hip, Clarke's ankle wraps around her back, foot resting on the top of her ass, but that is irrelevant because what Lexa's doing is stretching her open. Fingers slipping deeper, rubbing against her walls with the perfect pressure. 

Clarke whimpers into Lexa's mouth, ripping away to moan, " _Oh God._ "

Clarke's coming, again. Panting so loud that she may as well have just screamed.

She should have known. Lexa would never allow an empty orgasm. She's too greedy. 

Lexa's thumb rubs gently at her clit. Brings her attention to the way it is _pulsing_ beneath talented fingers. But she can't differentiate the pleasure because she is still burning, molten heat in her belly dispersing slowly. 

When Clarke can open her eyes, she realizes that Lexa has put her leg down and is massaging her thigh with one hand, the other —

"Oh my god, did I--?" 

Lexa's entire arm looks like she'd dipped it in the river. 

Lexa's shining eyes don't waver, "You've never?" 

"No!" Clarke squeaks. "Shit, sorry?" 

Lexa laughs, buttoning up Clarke's pants with sticky fingers. "No need to be." 

Clarke kisses her gently, exhausted, and tingling with a weightless sedated buzz only accomplished after a powerful release. 

"You are gorgeous and delicious and when I can move again, I'm going to ravish you." 

Lexa kisses her lazily, "I look forward to it." 

Footsteps echo through the underbrush, twigs snapping, leaves crunching. It's unnecessarily loud. Like someone is alerting them to their presence. 

There is absolutely no way that Ryder’s timing has become this impeccable. None. He always interrupts them minutes, seconds after one of them comes. 

Clarke cringes at the thought that he's listening. Waiting for them to finish before he enters. 

"Can you stand?" Lexa says softly, not acknowledging Ryder as he stops several feet behind them. 

"I'll manage." 

They break eye contact and Lexa is flowing away, Ryder falling into an almost silent step behind her. The last thing Clarke sees is her lifting her fingers to her mouth. 

Clarke groans. Her head falls back, clipping the fucking tree. 

\---

III. 

"Shh." 

Clarke's reminders do nothing to help Lexa be quiet. They actually incite her if the way Lexa's whimpers turning into deep guttural groans and growls is any indication. 

But they aren't in the commander's camp and the Arkers surrounding the room they're 'having a word' in would definitely not appreciate how they are defiling it. 

Clarke nips at Lexa’s clenched jaw eagerly. 

Lexa's body is coiled and straining, abs clenched against her, biceps locked around her.

 _God_ , Everything about the situation has Clarke swollen and slippery. 

Every sound Lexa makes injects Clarke with renewed energy. 

The item inside of Lexa rolls against Clarke's fingers. Its ridges push against Lexa's front wall angling for the spot behind her clit. 

This was a brilliant fucking idea that she will never thank Octavia for because it was the result of an over-share, but shit. 

The way Lexa’s thighs quake is delicious. 

"I want to taste you," Clarke whimpers quietly, "but I know you'd be too loud with my tongue on you. I want-" she is almost suffocating with the need to bury herself in Lexa. To drown in this powerful dynamic.

"I want you on your knees so I can fuck you from behind. I want you wet and open and-" 

"Clarke." Lexa growls in warning, her eyes opening to show the tiniest sliver of dark green. But it's too late, even as the name leaves her lips her cunt is pulsing and she can't do anything but slam her eyes closed and throw her head back as she comes. 

Clarke shoves her hand down her own pants rubbing her clit harshly even as she gently strokes Lexa through her orgasm. 

She comes almost instantly. Lexa’s name on her lips, clit hard and slippery against her own fingers. 

They stay pressed together until Lexa begins to shift and Clarke removes the toy before it becomes uncomfortable. Returning to place soft kisses along her neck and jaw. 

Clarke smirks, "So dirty talk, huh?" 

The drum of boots approaching is their cue to fake composure. 

Clarke takes note of Lexa's blush and files it away for later. 

\--

IV

Clarke's breath is knocked out of her when her back hits the cold metal wall. The heat of Lexa’s body follows, thigh slotting between her legs and allowing her to grind down wantonly. 

She bites Lexa’s bottom lip hard, ripping away her jacket to claw her hands underneath her shirt. 

Clarke finally succeeds and her hands slide up Lexa’s torso, beeline for her breasts. She cups them in her hands, fingers immediately going to play with her nipples. 

The room is sparse, too sparse because the wetness of their kisses echo and the gasps that slip out between them sound so fucking hot.

"We don't have time for slow," Clarke growls against Lexa’s mouth. The fact that she convinced Lexa to step into the dropship again is a miracle in itself but them being alone _anywhere_ is a gift she is not keen on wasting. 

Lexa shoves Clarke's hips away from her, pinning her more effectively against the wall and Clarke would protest except Lexa is thumbing open her pants, making room for her hand, and God, the anticipation alone has her moaning. 

Lexa always knows exactly what she needs. 

Her fingers wiggle inside of her panties, sliding over her clit and down, slicking up her fingers.

She swallows Clarke's deep drawn-out moan, fingers rubbing too softly between her folds. 

“Fuck,” Clarke hisses. 

There’s a sharp bang from the door, and Clarke sees red before she even hears Ryder’s voice.

"Kill him." She has never been more serious about anything in her life. 

She can feel Lexa’s soft huff of laughter against her lips and even that turns her on. 

Clarke holds Lexas hand still, not ready to give up the prospect of finally being able to finish what they've been perpetually starting. 

There's a second knock. 

Lexa lets out a defeated sigh and places a longing kiss on Clarke's neck, "You're so wet," she says dejectedly. 

"Constantly. I swear to God he knows to interrupt whenever you touch me." 

"They are here for my safety Clarke. And he knows not to interrupt unless it's urgent." 

Ryder increases the volume, "Apologies, Heda." 

Clarke's hand on Lexa’s wrist tightens, and she pulls, causing Lexa’s fingertips to slip inside of her. Their eyes stay locked as Clarke moans, "This is urgent."

Lexa's jaw clenches, her eyes already so dark become shadows, and she has the audacity to curl one of her fingers, rubbing against Clarke's front wall. 

“There is a sky girl here who claims--” 

“The _Fuck_ are you doing in my workroom Griffin!” Raven’s voice penetrates the room, louder than the guard dared to shout. 

“Tell this lumberjack to get out of my way!”

Clarke releases Lexa’s wrist with a sigh. 

Lexa's fingers gently slip out of Clarke's pants And Clarke purposely doesn't think about their dexterity as she re-buttons them one-handed. 

She does, however, choke when Lexa absentmindedly sucks her wet fingers clean. 

She has _got_ to stop doing that. 

Clarke is going to die. 

She's going to fucking die. 

"If your bare ass touches my workbench you will need all 12 clans to stop me from whipping it!" 

Or Raven is. 

Or Ryder. 

She hasn't decided. 

\--

V.

Clarke watches as Lexa sheds her shirt—tugs it up and over her firm stomach, the heavy material rubbing across puckered nipples, pronounced collar bones, a long neck.

Correction, Clarke drools watching Lexa remove her shirt.

It’s not her fault. Recent obligations have forced them to rush their latest escapades, they’ve sustained themselves with muffled moans and quick releases. With fingers reaching through open buttons and ripped bindings, So Lexa’s bare skin in view taunts her inaction. It’s almost too much. Too erotic. 

Clarke feels flushed, and it has nothing to do with the hot spring a few feet away. 

Lexa's boots and weapons lay discarded, the ground riddled with an obscene amount of blades next to her swords. Clarke’s gaze is unwavering as she watches Lexa take off the last barrier. Unties the binding on her pants, fingers lacing through the zigzag pattern and loosening them enough to wiggle the fabric over her hips and down. 

"Enjoying the view?" 

Lexa doesn't look up from her task so Clarke can't see the mirth in her eyes when she unthinkingly replies, "Yes."

Lexa’s pants and panties hit the floor, and she steps out of them before meeting Clarke's dark blue eyes. 

Her gaze is filled with a level of intent that makes Clarke’s knees _weak_. 

"Take off your clothes, Clarke," she says lowly. 

Clarke’s stomach jumps and she's moving at a desperate pace to rid herself of a ridiculous amount of layers. 

She watches Lexa step into the water first. Descending far enough for the steam to bead her face as the water swallows her up to her neck. She dips her head under, rising with a rivulet of cascading water. 

Jesus.

Clarke follows as soon as she peels off her socks, hissing as she steps into the spring and is enveloped by a new kind of heat. Humidity clings to her exposed skin, and the smooth hot rock under her feet is a welcome, delicious reprieve. 

She can feel her tense muscles melt, and she sinks into it with a sound usually reserved for private activities. 

Lexa's dark eyes trace the lines of her body and Clarke can't suppress a shiver remembering how it feels when she travels the same path with her hands, her tongue.

Clarke stops her descent when the water covers her breasts, her feet planted on firm level ground. She pointedly ignores the amusement under the soft smirk that Lexa flashes because she _knows_ Clarke cannot swim, and she stepped just outside of her reach anyways. 

Clarke splashes at her halfheartedly, "Asshole." 

Lexa flows forward to close the gap between them looking more beautiful than the situation warrants. 

Clarke really isn't a fan of dipping her head underwater but she would do it if she looked like Lexa after, deliciously flushed, smooth wet hair, perfect droplets sitting atop her long eyelashes and yes pooling in her collarbones.

Clarke lets out a soft groan. It's unacceptable. 

Lexa touches her chin gently, angling her face and Clarke is sure she's finally going to be kissed, instead, Lexa’s wet hands dip back into the water and bring up enough to smooth over Clarke's face. "You handled yourself well today." A swipe around her hairline and she dips again. "Very well." she says quietly, almost to herself. Her hands flow over Clarke’s cheeks, a finger over her nose, her lips, and chin. 

There was an alligator the size of a Pauna on their way back to camp. The resulting struggle left them unharmed but caked in mud and sore from dragging its body— a trophy— with them. 

After the commotion and clipped trigedasleng, they were escorted through the forest and to the entrance of a cave where Lexa navigated a labyrinth of passages with ease, stepping aside when they reached their destination so Clarke could suck in a breath at the sight. 

Clarke’s face is clean and Lexa diligently moves to her neck and shoulders. 

Clarke wants to return the favor, She wants to rub Lexa down with soap, to take her time washing her hair. To kiss her softly and take advantage of how romantic the situation feels. But as she brings her own hands to wipe Lexas face of the residual mud, her thumb pulls the plump bottom lip with a purposeful tug. 

Lexa’s tongue reaches for her finger. "Tease," she huffs as Clarke tilts her hand away. 

Clarke chuckles, meeting Lexa’s eyes and sinking into the way her irises are almost undetectable. The intensity jolts Clarke's body awake, fires through her nerve endings and fuck it, she surges forward catching Lexas bottom lip, sucking, tongue finding the crease that drives her crazy. 

They can do slow later. 

It feels new when their bodies touch underwater, A silk that makes Clarke want to rub against Lexa to feel the gliding friction. 

There's a slight scrape of teeth, a flick of tongue and Lexa moans humid and heavy into her mouth. 

Clarke's presses in, pulling her into a firmer kiss. And _God_. The way Lexa licks into her, meeting her tongue and curling around it has heat coiling low in her belly. 

Clarke moans from deep in her chest, a vibration running through her and traveling into Lexa. The cave echos it back and a shiver zings down her spine at the thrill of it all. 

Their kisses turn impatient, desperate. A race to _consume_ while inhaling enough oxygen to stay conscious. 

Clarke’s hand stays splayed in the middle of Lexa’s back to press them together. To hold her steady as her hips rock against her.

Lexa slots a thigh between Clarke's legs properly. Lean muscle pressing into throbbing heat. Clarke bucks before breaking away to pant at the feeling of Lexa's arousal. A slick she can easily differentiate from the water they are submerged in.

She eagerly replaces her thigh with her hand, her fingers probe Lexa's sex gently, trace her shape, follow the texture to warmth, and _oh_. She can differentiate that too. An entirely different heat. 

Lexa gasps into her mouth and repays the favor. One hand palms Clarke's ass firmly, the other sliding across the soft slope of belly and lower to confidently cup her while she sucks greedily at her neck. 

Her fingers expertly circle Clarke's clit with a teasing pressure. It's not enough and she knows it. 

The light sting from Lexa's fingers digging into her ass peel away at Clarke's patience. Soon she's rolling her hips, canting in desperately. 

Clarke listens to her own echos, loosens her jaw for more of the sensual sounds. 

Lexa wades into the water with her. A hand on her back holding them together through the journey. 

Clarke feels weightless under the sway of the water, the persistence of Lexa's mouth sucking greedily at her neck. 

Her back collides with the smooth rock at the far end of the spring.

Lexa presses forward, sinking into her front, pinning her with all of her curves and swells and hard plains–it’s enough to send Clarke’s head spinning. 

Lexa swallows her moan with a kiss that is all finesse, deep and soft, slow and wet. A promise. 

Clarke’s breasts, hips, belly push against Lexa's and she shudders, the warm ache between her legs worsening. 

They stay wrapped up, chasing each other’s mouths, bodies bending and molding and pushing, for what could be minutes or hours.

Lexa's hips tilt against Clarke’s and it's _so_ good but it's not enough. It's not. And Lexa must feel it too, the desperation thrumming beneath their skin. 

Lexa’s eyes are blown, her lips are wet and swollen, her breasts heaving with every gasp of air. Clarke clenches at the sight. 

Lexa's hands palm her thighs and in a ridiculously sexy display of strength, she lifts Clarke out of the water. 

Clarke is suddenly sitting on a rock, her nipples puckered in the air. Only the bottom of her legs and feet remaining underwater. 

Lexa’s face is level with— 

_Oh_

Lexa does that unnecessary endearing thing where she checks her eyes for consent. Clarke has barely nodded when Lexa’s tongue swipes through her in hungry heavy drags that catch her off guard. 

There are fucking _slurping_ sounds. Wet smacks, squelching. 

_Jesus_. 

Clarke cannot make her throat work to swallow. She's stuck with her head tilted back, neck exposed, jaw slack. 

Clarke keens and it all sounds unbearably loud and filthy to her own ears.

"Fuuuck."

Lexa hums a satisfying sound into her and gives her a wet kiss. Much the same way she did moments ago. Deliberate flicks of tongue, slow taunting licks, firm swipes. 

Clarke shivers as her moans bounce off of the rocks, amplified and played back to her again.

She hears the wet swipes of tongue, the labored breathing. Fuck. Her own sounds turn her on more than she could have ever imagined. As an artist, she would have thought it would be the visual but—

Lexa pulls Clarke's thighs over her shoulders and slides through her firmly. Tongue reaching inside, curling in that fucking impossible way that she does. 

Clarke falls back onto her hand, holding herself up and arching her back to angle into Lexa’s mouth. 

Clarke's free hand tangles in Lexa's damp hair, and she uses it as leverage to rock her hips against Lexa's face, chasing, chasing. 

“Lexa," her moans take on an exceedingly desperate edge. "Fuck, don't stop."

Clarke tugs at her scalp sharply, causing Lexa to puff a deep moan into her. It's almost enough to send her reeling, almost. 

"Please." 

Clarke's legs tremble, struggle to fall open wider, to spread herself impossibly open to get more of the wet warm rub of tongue. 

"Please. _Fuck_. Please."

Lexa’s satisfied hums echo with Clarke's moans escalating in timbre and fluctuating in pitch. 

Her hot mouth closes around Clarke's clit, a firm press of tongue and the perfect suction and Clarke comes. A powerful chill washes over her. Pickling at her skin, oozing through her pores, crashing against her muscles. Her entire body spasms. Jaw hinged open in a silent scream.

Distantly she can feel the pressure in her belly release, feel the warm flood between her thighs. 

It leaves her gasping for air. Feeling like she just broke the surface of water after being submerged. 

"Fuck, Lexa." 

Before she can come down all the way, Lexa tightens her hold. Her mouth reaching like she is _famished_. 

She sucks at her clit gently before sinking her tongue inside. She uses her grip on Clarke's thighs to pull her down into her face. Her tongue curls with every dip, devouring her wetness. 

Clarke's moans quickly turn into unintelligible whimpers and then into a struggle to breathe or swallow altogether. 

Lexa finds it. The spot that makes Clarke's body tremble. She licks it over and over, her nose bumping against her clit and Clarke falls apart again. 

This time her orgasm is hot. Liquified. It blossoms from her center, molten and dangerous. It spreads slowly yet it's there all at once. It overtakes her. 

Searing her nerve endings. 

Scorching her axis.

Decimating her senses.

It takes a long terrifying moment to catch her breath. 

When she can focus, she realizes Lexa is kissing her stomach, lightly thumbing her neglected nipples. 

She threads her fingers through Lexas hair, continues to struggle to breathe for what feels like forever. 

"Too much?" 

"God, no." 

"Good." Lexa gently pulls her back into the water. Kisses her lips softly, hands coming up to cup both of her breasts with a light pressure that is both soothing and teasing. 

Clarke breaks away from her mouth surprised — She's never felt Lexa this ravenous, this desperate to touch her, it's sexy as hell but there are two problems. One, Lexa is obviously trying to kill her. And two, she wants a turn to touch Lexa too. 

"Not yet." Lexa murmurs before dropping another kiss to her lips. Her thumbs circle her puckered nipples beneath the water, starting another build-up. 

"Unless you need to tap?" her eyebrow quirks in a seductive challenge. "But I haven't even got to feel you come around my fingers yet." 

Clarke forgot they are usually interrupted by now. Forgot she hasn't had the opportunity to fully test Lexa’s stamina, and it looks like Lexa realized this and is enjoying thoroughly testing hers first. 

She wants to say yes and tap, she really does. She wants a turn to fuck Lexa and then slip into a sated coma. But her treacherous body is already responding, already lighting up under Lexa's gentle ministrations. 

She groans.

“Is that a yes?” Lexa asks cheekily.

“No, that’s me wondering if I’ll get my turn.”

“We won’t be interrupted.” Lexa promises. 

Clarke stares at her for a moment, gauging. A grin slowly overtakes her face, “Then you better tread lightly.”

Lexa huffs a soft laugh, "I would never." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
